


Narcomania

by Kaisarion



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Allergies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Background Relationships, Be Careful What You Wish For, Beta Read, Beta Read By Party Outside The Archive, Betrayal, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Borderline Personality Disorder, Boys In Love, British English, British Slang, But mostly past tense, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Catching Up Past, Changing Tenses, Character Death In Dream, Chatting & Messaging, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Cigarettes, Cigarillos, Cigars, Classical Music, Closeted Character, Cockney Accent, Cold Weather, Coma, Coming Out, Constant Near Death Experiences, Contains Other Languages, Could Be Canon, Could be a book, Dark Past, De-Aged Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Deathwishes, Dedicated to Someone I Dearly Love, Denial of Feelings, Despair, Deutsch | German, Disfigurement, Drama, During Canon, Einsatzkommando Kobra, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Español | Spanish, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Faking Hate, False Memories, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fear, Fear of Death, Fear of Discovery, Feelings Realization, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, First True Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3, Gaming, Gay, Gay Love, Gay Sex, Gender Roles, Getting to Know Each Other, Ghost Is Desperately Trying To Become A Better Person, Ghost hates everything and everyone including himself, Ghost is an arse towards Roach, Ghost is possessive, Gunshot Wounds, Hate In Order To Protect, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hope, Hope vs. Despair, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I love my fragile boys, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, In Love With The Fandom, Inner Dialogue, Insults, Internalized Homophobia, Kaderpräsenzeinheit - KPE, Kidnapping, Late Night Writing, Loss of Control, Loss of Faith, Loss of Identity, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Virginity, Love/Hate, Lovesickness, M/M, Massacres, Mental Anguish, Mental Coercion, Mental Discord, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Mental Leaps, Minor Character Death, Mood Swings, Morbid Possessive Behaviour, Morning Sickness, Murder, Music, My First Work in This Fandom, Mythology & Folklore Morality, Near Death Experiences, Non Canonical Extended Origin Story, Not Beta Read, Oh My God, Origin Story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Ghost, POV Roach, POV Third Person Omniscient, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Torture, Please Don't Hate Me, Political Alliances, Possessive Behavior, Possibly More Than 200.000 Words, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Protectiveness, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Religious Fanaticism, Repressed Memories, Repressed Past, Revenge, Roach being the newbie he is, Roach has self-esteem issues, Roach is forgiving, Romance, Russian Mafia, SO, Sacrifice, Scars, Scottish Character, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Sacrifice, Separation Anxiety, Sexual Repression, Sharing a Bed, Showers, Sibling Incest, Simon "Ghost" Riley Is Bad At Feelings, Simon "Ghost" Riley Swears A Lot, Slight Dissociative Identity Disorder, Slow Burn, Smoking, So many tags, Soulmates, Special Air Service, Special Forces, Substance Abuse, Tags May Change, Tags do not contain spoilers, Temper Tantrums, The Author Is Being Encouraged By Friends, The Author Is Bi, The Author Is Male, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Author is A Night Owl, The Person Reading This Is Probably Gay Or Female, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This May Be Posted On Other Sites, Torture, Trapped In A Closet, Traumatic Experiences, Trust Issues, Underage Drinking, United Kingdom, Unrequited Love In Order to Protect, Updating once every two weeks (I'm trying), Violation Of Human Rights, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, Who Is Simon "Ghost" Riley Really?, Wish Fulfillment, Won’t turn into an AU, Work In Progress, and, and also, badassery, but not really au, don't know yet, gunfights, i love them, long story, lying, mostly - Freeform, reality distortion, scottish accent, such as, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, traumatic past, violation of personal space, Русский | Russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaisarion/pseuds/Kaisarion
Summary: He knew that it wasn't going to be easy. He knew that joining Task Force 141 was going to end in a coffin for him, sooner rather than later. He knew he would be shot, wounded, cheat death multiple times, kill, lie, and all the other things that came with his job. What Roach didn't know though, was that he'd fall in love during all this.
Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	Narcomania

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Welcome to my first CoD fic! I hope you enjoy!

Persecutio  
Day 0, 2016  
Location: Classified  
Date: Classified  
Time: 8:55 am  
Task Force 141  
Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson

This was the day. He was supposed to meet the Task Force, the legendary 141 he heard so much about. His palms were sweating, the anticipation grew within him with every second he had to wait inside the chopper that brought him to the 141’s secret base of operation. 

He was handpicked by Captain John Price, even more legendary than the Task Force he founded with his protégé John MacTavish. Price said he had potential, an uncut diamond, as the Captain called it. Roach was an expert in demolitions, intelligence gathering, infiltration, sniping, melee-combat, and much more, probably the reason why he was selected. He joined the military at seventeen, served there for five years, including joint operations with various special forces, mainly the Special Air Service, where he came in contact with Captain Price, who immediately took him under his wing, pulled some strings and later got to take the practical exam for the Task Force, which, of course, he passed. After that he was promoted to Sergeant, being one of the youngest ever to have obtained the rank at such a young age. He was proud, who wouldn’t? Yet, he had some serious doubts about actually joining, mostly because of his family. 141 members weren’t exactly known for reaching a high age. Roach worried about what his mother would say, he was an only child, and he was the only thing she had left, after his father run off when he was only three years old. But he had to go, it was his dream, it was something he always has wanted to do, saving the world, knocking out infamous terrorists, preventing any possible attacks on the country he so much loved, serving the Queen, keeping his mother save. All that he could do by joining 141. 

And here he was, sitting in a chopper, anxiously waiting and hoping that everyone would like him. Nervously, he fiddled with the velcro fastening of his uniform, thinking about what could possibly go wrong, aside from completely embarrassing himself in front of the whole team.

His fears were swept aside though when the pilot announced that they had reached their destination. So, Roach picked up his bag which contained all the things he needed: toothbrush, clothing, products he needed for his personal hygiene, his laptop, and some books he liked. When the hatch of the chopper opened, he was stunned to see that only one person was standing there, a big guy with a ridiculous haircut, which probably was meant to be a mohawk, arms folded and looking like he had three cups of coffee already. When nothing at all happened, Roach decided to just head into the man’s direction. 

“You must be the FNG, I suppose. Heard they call you Roach?“ It was more of a statement than a question, and one with an heavy Scottish accent too, after all, he assumed the Captain already told everyone he was to come. When he looked closer, he saw that the taller man had bright blue eyes, which were piercing his skin. On top of that, he scanned him from top to bottom, leaving a grunt. “What the hell kinda name is Roach, eh? How’d a muppet like you pass Selection?“ He was stunned. He didn’t expect a warm welcome, but this wasn’t even one to begin with. He decided to just ignore the remark. 

Just as silence flooded their surroundings, the Scot broke it, “Hahah, just fucking with ya, mate. Name’s Captain MacTavish. Welcome to the TF141.“ 

MacTavish?! As in John MacTavish?! Price’s legendary protégé who took out Imran Zakhaev?! 

“It’s a great honour, sir. I’ve heard so much about you,“ he said while shaking hands with the Captain. The other’s hands were rough but warm. “There’s no reason for formalities. Let’s head to my office,“ he answered.

On their way to the office, they passed several other buildings. Roach figured that the base had to be large, and somewhere near a desert or something like that, because, even though it wasn’t even 9 am yet, it felt pretty warm. Or is it just my nervousness?, he thought.

He figured it was, and for the umpteenth time he asked himself if the others were going to like him. Bored to death, he asked, “How are the others like? Will they like me?“

“Oh, you don’t have to worry ‘bout that, most of them are happy to see a new face ‘round here. No-one is gonna bite yer ass, yet.”

That’s good to hear. Wait….yet? What’d he mean with ‘yet’?

Before he could ask his question, they arrived at the office. As he entered, on the right he saw various bookshelves with all kinds of books in it. There were novels, thrillers, biographies, political statements, and, when he spotted it, he smirked, a book about the history of Scotland. He never imagined his superior to be such a bookworm. On the left there was a locker, probably the Captain’s. The rest of the room was empty, except for the desk in its midst. On top of it, there were several types of utensils. A pen, a laptop, a knife, and an open wooden casket, which appeared to contain a M1911 pistol. It looked like it was cleaned at least once a day. On its left there was a picture frame with a photograph in it. As Roach looked closer, he saw four people of which he knew two. His Scottish Captain and the man who took him in, John Price. The other tow he did not know. Haven’t seen Price since I came here, wonder where he is, he thought by himself. His thoughts came to a halt when the Captain sat down on the opposite of the desk, staring at him. Roach never knew a minute could feel that long as in this very moment. 

After what felt like an eternity, MacTavish spoke, “Alright. I need your papers.”

“Papers?”, he asked bemusedly.

“Passport, health certificate, that kinda stuff,” his Captain ordered.

“Ohh, yeah, here ya go,” 

“Sanderson, Gary. Born in London, 21st of June 1994, twenty-two years old. Went to the military at seventeen years of age, joined the SAS at twenty, served there for two years, picked by Captain John Price to be part of Task Force 141,” read his superior out, while having a serious look on his face. He continued, “Rose to the rank of Sergeant after containing a hostage situation by single-handedly shooting five terrorists with a sniper rifle over a distance of one point four kilometres in Vienna, Austria. Expert in demolition, infiltration, sniping, melee-combat, known for improvising well in dangerous situations, passed every test of the 141-selection program with ease. Family: Mother, Aileen Sanderson, father, Henry Sanderson, whereabouts unknown, probably run off. Sister, died at birth. Brother, twenty-three, died after being shot by terrorists when you were sixteen in the Piccadilly Circus attacks. Aunt, Elisabeth, sixty-seven, raised you together with yer mom.” Again, with a serious look on his face, he said, “Are all these informations correct?”

Gary couldn’t believe it. His Captain knew everything that had happened in his life, well, concerning his military career and family members. He hoped his superior didn’t everything, and he shuddered at the thought of it. 

Regaining his thoughts, he answered, “Yes, everything’s correct.”

His Captain eyed him. Did he notice how nervous I am? Cmon, Gary, don’t lose your composure. You got this.

“Perfect, just one last question,” MacTavish announced.

Great, he probably did notice how nervous I am.

The Captain opened his mouth to ask what he wanted to, but he paused. Instead, he rose from his chair, trotted around the table and sat again, this time on the desk, directly in front of the Sergeant. He raised his hand to the younger man’s shoulder, slightly patting him there and saying, “Look, I can see that you’re worried, but there’s really no need for it. You’re a tough one, the men like that. Now, let’s introduce you to the rest of the team.”

He could tell that his Captain’s concerns were genuine. He didn’t like the touch though, he didn’t like being touched at all, he had his reasons.

After his superior’s well-meant touch and the encouraging words, both men left the office to head around base and get Gary known to the other members of 141. They passed a group of four, hanging around near the cafeteria.

“Oi mates, welcome Roach, he’s the FNG.”

The tallest of the four immediately jumped in front of him. He was at least two heads larger than himself. He had green eyes, broad shoulders and tainted skin, which was white. His nose was pointed and freckles covered his whole, rounded face. The man wore a casual shirt, military pants and brown boots. He was also wearing gloves, which was odd, then by now he was sure that they were somewhere in desert. 

“Hey Roach, I’m Meat. And those three plonkers are Royce, Ozone and Chemo. Pleased to meet you,” the man introduced himself and his friends. Roach thought it was bizarre. Why would he introduce the others? Albeit, he didn’t mind. The lads made a good impression on him. So, he answered, “Likewise. Looking forward to working with y’all.” 

After Gary said goodbye to the other blokes, he and the Captain headed inside the cafeteria to greet the others.

Inside they stumbled over two other. One had dark skin, the other looked like a latino. The Captain introduced them as Archer and Toad. He liked that everyone else had nicknames too, and that he wasn’t the only one. After his new family got him a cup of coffee and a loaf of bread, Archer asked, “Have you met Ghost yet?”

“Ghost? Who’s that?”, he asked in return.

Now Toad got up, “The toughest guy here. Doesn’t even have a name, well, he has but he doesn’t tell no-one. And he always wears that mask of his.”

Sounds like an amiably person, Roach thought. 

“You haven’t told him, sir?”, Archer now asked, directed at MacTavish.

“What should he have told me?”

“You gonna share a room with Ghost, cuz all the others have one already, Ghost’s the only one who doesn’t. Don’t worry, he’s usually nice and doesn’t talk much.”

Captain MacTavish interrupted the gossip and said, “Cmon Roach, don’t believe what those wankers tell ya. Alright. Breakfast’s between five and nine am. Then, we usually exercise together in the yard til eleven. After that, we do some shooting and rest of the day is at everyones own disposal. The showers are down the hallway there, as are the quarters. Can’t miss it. Welcome again, mate.”, the Captain announced, while pointing with his finger in said direction, and then headed off to his office, because he had some paperwork to do.

Succeeding the announcement, Gary headed for his quarter. It turned out though that finding his quarter wasn’t as easy as he thought. He looked left and right but couldn’t make out which room was his. After closely examining some of the doors, he saw his name written on a piece of paper that was hung up on the side of the door. 

He was nervous again and hesitated before knocking on the door, he couldn’t stay there forever though and decided to just get over it, and knocked.

No-one answered. He knew it wasn’t alright, something like what he was about to do should never be done, yet, he just entered. His name was on the outside after all.

However, as Gary entered the room, he was astonished. It was cleaned, neatly and carefully in fact. The beds were made, the floor appeared to have been cleaned recently. Still sanding in the doorframe, the Sergeant thoroughly examined his new home. On both the left and right side of the room was a bed, as well as a locker. The left locker was open and he could see that some things had been stored there, so, he figured the right bed was his, and the left was Ghost’s. The room was neither large, nor small. It could contain two grown men with ease. On the far end he spotted a washbasin with a toothbrush on it, another confirmation that somebody else lived here. On its opposite end, there was drawn back curtain which revealed a toilet. Nothing special at all, just like back home, only different thing that he wasn’t alone anymore. 

While still blocking the doorway, a voice rang out behind him, saying, “How much bloody longer are ya gonna stand there?” Roach jolted and immediately turned backwards. What he saw made him shudder even more. An about ten centimetres taller man was standing there, eying him with crossed arms and piercing his skin with the look he gave him through his sunglasses. 

Wait, sunglasses?

Indeed, the opposite person wore sunglasses. If that wasn’t weird enough, the bloke also hid his face behind a mask, a baclava, to be more precise. The man wore his combat uniform, at least, it looked like it. He couldn’t exactly make it out due to the glasses, but the taller one appeared to have brown eyes. Although he couldn’t see them properly, he felt their gaze upon him, waiting for his next move. 

“And what are you doing in my room anyway? Who are you?”, the masked man roughly asked, or rather inquired.

As Gary opened his mouth to answer, stuttering was all it produced, “I….I’m t…the n-new… guy…” Now, the mood of the other man seemed to lighten, as did his posture. It was rather aggressive before, but now, the muscles of the bigger man seemed to relax. 

“Ohh, ‘m sorry. Thought you were an intruder. Can’t be too careful these days. I’m Ghost,” his superior said while offering his right hand. 

Roach observed the other’s action. It seemed cold, devoid of any emotion, as if Ghost forced himself to be nice with his new roommate.

Nonetheless, Gary shook the man’s hand. As their hands touched, Roach felt a warmth radiating throughout his body. While shaking hands, he thought he held his over a fire. 

When their first connection was over, they just stared at each other in silence. Both man maintained their status until Roach asked, “So, how’d you get here.”

Ghost kept staring at him, as if he just murdered a sweet puppy. His answer came about ten-seconds after, “Long story.” Really? That’s all he has to say?

“You’re still standing in the bloody frame,” Ghost said after a while, with more annoyance now.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Mhm.”

They still stared at each other.

Now angry, Ghost shoved Roach aside and said, “You gotta bloody move too, bugger.”

Get yourself together, Gary. You’re already leaving a bad impression on your roommate, don’t make it any worse.

As Ghost lay down on his bed, grabbing a book, Roach was still standing, not having moved a muscle. 

The older noticed that something was very off here.

“I’m not intimidating you, am I?”

Silence.

“Look, kid, I know I must look like some creep, be assured though that I’m not gonna murder you in yer sleep.”

Owing to the fact that Roach’s very first thought when he saw the masked man was indeed that he’d die here and there made him laugh out loud.

“Strange turn of events. First intimidated and now laughing? You’re a strange one, kid.”

When Gary recovered from his fit of laughter, he immediately sat down on his bed, else he feared he would collapse.

Still amused, Roach asked Ghost a question, “Why do you wear it? The mask I mean.”

The other closed his book, looking up at Roach, staring right at his eyes, and with a serious tone, he answered, “None of your bloody business.”

That made Roach feel uncomfortable. He was nice just seconds ago, now he’s so antagonistic.

He tried again, “What are you reading there? Is it good?”

“Don’t know, keep getting interrupted.”

Ouch, that hurt.

“Look, I just wanted to…”, “Will you be quiet for once!” He shut the book violently. “Gosh, you’re such a buggin’ person, no wonder your bloody name’s Roach! No-one likes that inquisitive behaviour, so cut it out! Go to the rec room or something but leave me alone. And. Let. Me. Bloody. Read. My. Book!”

He wasn’t prepared for that. He wasn’t prepared for the resentment. He wasn’t prepared for the fact that he might actually be nothing more than a bug. His father said that, too. Often enough in fact that he believed it as a kid. He wasn’t prepared that he so abruptly was thrown back his past, that he saw his father yelling at him, boxing his ears, telling him how unwanted and hated he was. 

And so, he left his roommate alone, heading somewhere else, most likely to the rec room, as he was told to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading till the end of the first chapter! Feel free to leave some kudos and commentaries. Criticism is much obliged! See you next chapter!


End file.
